A Benediction
by Jennifer Hack
Summary: Balthier x Ashe: AU - a different take on the ending of FFXII and what it might have meant for Ashe.


Bells and Footfalls and Soldiers and Dolls

**A BENEDICTION**

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Author's Note: Everyone seems to compare Final Fantasy XII with IX, and I remember playing through the game, and could totally see Ashe/Balthier together in a Hildegard/Cid sort of way, and so, I wrote this oneshot.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Like, at all.

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**(I. Pre)**

Somewhere along the Phon Coast, it was dark.

"It's late you know." Vaan sighed as he saw the Lady Ashe, not for the first time, wandering around outside the camp late at night.

"I know." Ashe did not sound as strong or as fierce as she would have liked. Out of all the others, Vaan probably understood the Princess' steeled façade the best, perhaps because they had both suffered so intensely during the war. He had lost his brother, his only remaining family. She had lost all of her family, in one fateful night.

"Are you thinking about him again?" Vaan asked.

"No." Ashe was looking up at the sky, and not at him. "…Maybe a little." She admitted. "Please, do not trouble yourself. I will stand watch, Vaan – you really ought to get some rest."

Vaan sighed, kicked at the sand, and shuffled away, leaving the Princess alone again.

"I wish that I had died… instead of him." She whispered. This was a far more selfish statement that it would seem initially. "I would die now… but if I am gone there will be no one left to fight for Dalmasca, and so, I must remain." She declared firmly. "Death would be… decidedly selfish, now." Ashe whispered to the dark atmosphere. Again, her unwavering devotion outweighed her wish to die. She had gone over the idea several times now.

She closed her eyes, thinking about death.

_Him. _The man Vaan had inquired after. They had not been married long, had it been days? A week perhaps?

She could not remember, and did not want to.

Rasler. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her calloused palms. He was more than her husband… she had known him all her life. The families of Dalmasca and Nabradia had intermarried for several generations- Rasler was her cousin. When they were young, he had always been kind to her. He listened patiently to her babblings about dolls and dresses, colours and cloth. Rasler's only fault was that he could be completely unforgiving of others offences towards him.

Ashe had insulted him once, on one of her and her father's many visits to Nabradia. She hadn't meant to, she was still a child then, barely 12 years old, the words just slipped out without her realizing it.

Rasler did not talk to her for three days.

On the morning of the fourth day, a young Ashe burst into Rasler's room and threw herself at his feet sobbing and apologizing over and over until finally he forgave her.

So touched were their parents, by this act of asking and granting forgiveness, a rarity for both their children, that they thought it best that the two marry, to further preserve peace between their two nations.

Ashe did not know, when they married, if she loved him the way a wife ought to love a husband. He had always been a dear friend, he was a member of her family. There was an easiness, an understanding between them. He never, ever touched her.

Balthier was different. There was understanding, but there was also longing. It was this longing that troubled her. She was tied to the earth, her kingdom, her people, her land, he was bound to the skies. Like in all the old myths, they would long to touch but would always be forever reaching.

His actions and words confused her; She knew that he stole from people like her, people like who she once was. But he had told her so much about him, about his past. Secrets that he could not share with anyone else.

In a strange way, he tormented her. She felt closer to him, as the days and nights went by, and she could not bear it. He had loved so many beautiful women…

The nighttime sky was only getting darker, but Ashe didn't seem to mind as she made her way back to the small encampment. Her footsteps were deliberate and silent, she stood over Balthier's sleeping form and sighed.

She knelt down beside him, and studied his features carefully in the dark.

"Balthier." She whispered, but he did not stir. _He does not matter_. She told herself. _Dalmasca is all that matters_.

Ashe closed her eyes. What she wanted from him was more than foolish, it was selfish. He was a wanted criminal, many women had come and gone from his bed- why should he ever want to share his life with her, when there were so many, so many beautiful, laughing women that wanted nothing more than one night.

She wanted to believe that she meant something to him, something other than another pretty girl among many pretty girls. "It does not matter now." Ashe whispered. "I will do what I must. For the people of Dalmasca, if nothing else – I owe them that much. And to you… you will always have the sky." She whispered the benediction, knowing that he could not hear.

She touched his hand, lightly, tracing her fingertips along his, and breathed in his scent of gunpowder and clean leather.

"Princess, can't this wait until morning?" Balthier smiled without opening his eyes.

Ashe jerked her hand back in surprise. "I apologize, Balthier. I did not mean to wake you."

"Of course you didn't." He took her hand, and kissed her fingertips. Ashe was glad for the darkness, he could not see her turn the most unusual shade of red.

"Why did you tell me all that… back at the coast?" She whispered again, so as not to wake everyone.

Balthier opened his eyes. She would not let him be. Sighing, he opened his eyes, searching for Ashe's face.

He wouldn't answer her question.

"You're not going to let me sleep, are you?" He asked teasingly.

"I'm serious." Ashe protested, not sounding anywhere near as serious as she would have liked. "I have given you the ring… the payment you asked for. If there is nothing more you want from me, please… please, let me be."

Balthier was not expecting this – it was an unusual request for a woman to make of him. He stood up, now wide awake, and offered a hand to Ashe, to help her stand as well. "You must forgive me, Princess," He laced his fingers through hers, apologizing for something he couldn't do. He could not simply leave her be.

"Forgive me." Balthier whispered in her ear. Ashe could feel his breath on her cheek, and her pulse quickened. He was pulling her closer to him – never before had he touched her like this. A small contact, their fingertips might meet, he might touch her arm, but never this.

She wanted to protest, but didn't want to at the same time.

They went somewhere, that night, someplace not too far away, but far enough where the others could not hear them.

At night, the air was thinner, allowing the sky to touch the earth.

**(II. Post)**

(1)

He had been dead to her for a year, and now, holding this ring in her hand, he was alive again. Ashe might have cried, had she not been so distracted by something else.

The cries of an infant, barely 3 months old, reached her ears from the other room, and called her away from the balcony.

Ashliana Bunansa Dalmasca was a very long name for such a tiny child, so she had taken to calling the infant Ashe. The Princess, soon to be crowned Queen, had kept the child's existence hidden from the public; and further intended to do so until the time was right to announce her as the Lady Ashe's successor and heir. This was done mostly to protect Ashe from the scrutiny of the people, but despite that, she could not bring herself to resent her child.

Ashliana, Little Ashe, had eyes that were blue, common to all babies, when she was born, but they had changed from dark blue to an amber shade when she was around one month old. His eyes. Ashe smiled down on her daughter, lying in the cradle that had once belonged to her as a child. The weeping child calmed when she looked up and saw her mother's face, and began to make a noise that sounded like the 'coo' of birds.

Bending over, Ashe gathered the child in her arms and walked across the room to her desk, where she began composing a letter.

Balthier could not be reached by any normal means, so she addressed a letter to Vaan and Penelo;

I hope that you two are doing well; and I thank you for the delivery of Balthier's note. I am glad that both he and Fran managed to escape. If it is not too much trouble, I hope that you can pass this message along to Balthier when you next see him. I do not know how else he might be reached.

I have something that belongs to him, and it is very valuable. I have no means of getting this to him, and if it all possible, I would greatly appreciate it if he would come to the palace himself.

Satisfied with the letter, Ashe sighed. She realized that her hands were shaking. She was smiling and crying all at once, relieved and very much afraid at the news of Balthier.

She was afraid he would come to her, and she was equally afraid that he would not. Ashe went on smiling and crying, alone in her apartments with her daughter, rocking the infant back and forth until she fell asleep.

She dispatched the letter to Vaan, and then busied herself with affairs of state.

(2)

Ashe knew that she would have to wait. Wait for her message to reach him, and wait still for him to come, if he decided to return to her at all.

The waiting went quickly. She wrote letters, held audiences with the people as well as the nobility, all of which mattered to her, but not as much as the moments she was able to spend with her daughter.

She was an unusually quiet child, and did not cry often, earning the admiration of the nurse that attended her while the Lady Ashe was occupied. She had returned to her apartments earlier than she had expected one warm, breezy afternoon, and dismissed the nurse for the day.

She stood out on the balcony as the sun sank lower in the sky, feeling the breeze on her face.

It had been nearly three weeks since she had sent that letter, and still, he had not come.

Ashe considered the realization that he might not ever come, and it pained her.

"Vaan said you had something that belonged to me." Balthier's accent reached her ears, and Ashe quickly turned around, obviously startled. Her hands flew to her chest, her heart beating so rapidly.

Balthier stepped out from behind a white curtain, billowing out on the balcony, and in that moment, Ashe lost herself.

She embraced him, smiling without the tears, breathing in his scent.

He smiled at the warmth and familiarity of her greeting. "You know, Princess, I'm beginning to think that your letter was a mere ruse to get me here." He chuckled, clearly not minding the deception at all, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"I thought you were dead." Ashe said gently.

"No. I'm afraid I'm not." He said, laughing. They parted a little too soon for his liking, and Ashe looked into eyes, serious and grave.

"I did not lie when I said I had something that belongs to you." She said, carefully studying his expression, looking for some sort of clue to tell her how she ought to proceed.

Balthier's puzzlement was expressed only in his eyes, the lingering smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth. She did not know how to tell him, and closed her eyes to pray for strength.

"Ashe?" Balthier was clearly concerned. The colour had faded from her face, after all of the things she had confronted, all of the obstacles she had faced, this was the greatest of them all, and it could not be cut down with a sword.

"There is something… you must know." She began, carefully, deliberately. But before she could even think of how to begin her next sentence, Ashliana, little Ashe, inside, had begun to cry, separated from her mother too long.

"…Ashe?" Balthier repeated, only this time obviously worried.

"Forgive me. Perhaps it's better if you go." Ashe quickly turned away and rushed inside. But Balthier didn't leave. His fancy lace collar suddenly became very tight, and out of sheer curiosity followed Ashe inside.

The baby in the cradle was laughing, now. Ashe turned around when she heard Balthier enter. She did not cry, but her eyes were glassy.

Balthier came to stand next to her, over the cradle.

"Her name is Ashliana Bunansa Dalmasca… but I call her Ashe." Ashe explained gently. "She has your eyes." The baby's long thin hands wrapped around her index finger. "I… am not asking you to stay." She said, even though she wished that he would.

She let him stand there in silence, touching her, staring at the child that belonged to both of them.

"She's beautiful." Balthier admitted. The most beautiful female he had ever seen, and she was his daughter.

Ashe smiled, and took his hand, replacing her fingers with his, allowing little Ashe to hold his index finger, much larger and stronger than her own.

"How is it that no one knows about her?" He asked, speaking gently and with unusual seriousness. "I – I swear to God, I did not know."

"My advisors and I wanted to wait until after the coronation. As an unwed mother, my ability to lead would certainly be questioned- we thought that after the people had come to accept my rule, I could introduce her as my heir with less scrutiny."

"I am sorry." Balthier said. "For these circumstances." His mind was numb with all of these strange emotions he was experiencing for the first time. But he felt something he had not felt in a very long time – guilt. Ashe felt it was too selfish of her to ask him to stay, perhaps she was too proud to ask for help, and Balthier felt it would be too selfish for him to act otherwise.

"I do not mean to trap you here." Ashe said, even though she could not bear to lose him again.

Balthier said nothing in response. Ashliana had begun to cry in protest at this new stranger, the

familiar stranger with eyes just like her own. His expression was impossible to read. Suddenly, he had a child.

Ashe cradled the baby gently, and she immediately quieted in her mother's familiar embrace. And Balthier did not know what to do.

(3)

Days, months, years went by. Dalmasca had the largest fleet of airships in all of Ivalice, thanks to Regent Balthier Bunansa. He was away often, sometimes accompanied by his wife, The Queen of Dalmasca, but almost always accompanied by his daughter.

When he looked at her, into the face that belonged to her mother and the eyes that belonged to him, Regent Bunansa never once regretted his decision to give up his profession and move on to something entirely different.

When he returned to the place he called home and found his wife there, waiting for him, he wondered how he could have lived for so long without her.


End file.
